Spell Check
by Constance Greene
Summary: Axel challenges random Organization members to a spelling bee. It usually ends up in explosions. Current victim: The Saix Beast — or Axel and Demyx? — AxelLarxene
1. Roxas

**A **u t h 0 r ' s **N **0 t e  
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This is a sequel to the oneshot Spelling Bee, mainly for my own entertainment. And for yours, of course. I liked the idea and decided to continue it. Lucky for you, I'm including the oneshot in this fanfiction so you won't be bothered with going back and reading it. I'm nice, aren't I?  
Kingdom Hearts ain't mine. Nor is Organization XIII (haha, yeah, I 0WN you, Axel).  
There may be some very slight Larxel hidden within these chapters. Who knows.

Axel challenges random Organization members to a spelling bee. Harmless, right?

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**Spell Check  
**001 . Technical Difficulties

(_xxxxx_)

On any ordinary day when there was nothing else better to do, Axel and his chum Roxas would be in the blonde boy's room playing video games. Their latest obsession, in which they channeled all their energy and frustration of being empty and insensitive vessels into, was Super Smash Bros. Melee.

"_Pikachu!_"

The Pokémon's incessant screams jolted the hallways of Castle Oblivion as Roxas (who always insisted on being the electric rodent) used thunder repetitively on Axel's Samus.

Axel guessed the little mouse fit Roxas well. Its pelt was nearly the same shade as his hair, and the spiky quality it had reminded him of the creature's zigzag tail. Still, though, it was annoying as hell (as Number XIII could sometimes be). Besides, since its element was lightning, one would think that it'd fit Larxene more than Roxas. Not like Larxene ever played the Gamecube, but Axel had his doubts and suspicions, and Roxas had yet to catch the Savage Nymph in the act.

Zexion paused outside the doorway and considered asking them to please, be quiet, as all the racket was causing his brain to bleed profusely, yet decided against it and continued on his way. Trying to shut off those two's game system was like trying to unplug the sun's indefatigable inferno.

"_Pikachu!_"

"Roxas, will you _stop_ using that attack over and over? It's pitiful."

"But that's how I always win!" The teen exclaimed, jumping up from his bed and leaning towards the screen that glowed incandescently, dancing brightly with colour.

"_Pikachu!_"

From the basement laboratory, Vexen plugged his ears and succeeded on spilling a concoction from his myriad of bottles on the floor due to his knobby elbows. Damn knobby elbows.

"Really, now, Roxas –"

"Yeeees!" He shifted in front of the television, so all Axel could see was his black cloak and barricading butt. The redhead imagined the metal-coated Samus being thwarted by Pikachu, suspended and tumbling in cycles on the top of the lightning geyser as it always did, and inwardly groaned his defeat.

Tedious moments filled with mechanic explosions and more high-pitched shrieks went by before Axel stiffly got up, draining his opposition of not wanting to be rid of the comforting foot of Roxas's bed and stood over his best friend's shoulder. It wasn't very difficult – he was more than a head taller than the youngest member of the Organization. After watching the frying Samus, he bumped Roxas away with his hip and took place beside him in front of the TV. Roxas didn't seem to mind much; he was fixated on the screen.

"You know, Samus is really a girl." The boy said matter-of-factly, out of the blue.

Axel's emerald eyes blinked once, jabbing his fingers on the controller. "Shut up."

"You're playing a _woman_ –" Ah, so this was how it was going to be? Regardless of whether he was losing or not, when it came close to countdown Roxas began to mock his opponent, trying to break them down with searing and derogative commentary. Well, Axel wouldn't submit to such pettiness.

"You're playing a MOUSE. How is that any better?"

"_PIKACHU!_"

Oh, dear, the miniature rat was insulted.

"_PIPE DOWN OR I'M TELLING THE SUPERIOR!_" Saїx's roar resonated from the other side of the corridor, causing the two young males to jump as if Pikachu had somehow channeled its electrical current through the game station and zapped them both. Berserk Saїx was not something they wanted to see at the moment, but in Axel's opinion, he'd probably rather see the deranged elf come crashing through the door than see himself lose to the temperamentally hyperactive blonde haired kid.

Though Saїx was the bravest to speak up, Axel and Roxas were the bravest (or perhaps stupidest) to not abide by the rules. Mutual thoughts passed through their brains: Pah, what could Xemnas do to them? Nyah nyah.

Two pairs of eyes switched back to the screen, eagerly drinking up whatever harmful rays that radiated from its depths. They knew the end was near, they could _taste_ it –

"_Three_."

"Oh, dammit." Axel's slender fingers began to work more furiously on the controller as the computer began to count down to the end of the battle.

"_Two_."

"Come _on_ . . ." The redhead's teeth clenched in effort, brows narrowing further down his aquiline forehead. Roxas tensed, body bending at the waist as he held the plastic controller in a death grip, focusing intently on the last remaining second that flashed across the TV monitor.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck."

"_One_.

"_GAME! Winner: 2nd player, Pikachu_."

"SCORE!" Roxas dropped his controller and performed a little victory dance around his patterned rug. "I OWNED YOU!" Axel tossed his down with a little more force put into it, collapsing back onto the bed with a growl stuck in his throat.

Roxas lithely picked his controller back up, his "I win"'s fading as he rapidly began to start a new game.

"Okay, Axel, you get to be . . ." Even though he was turned away from him, Axel knew that his friend was smirking. When Axel lost (which was very rare and happened only when he was distracted – either by his pervading associate, or what the boy claimed to be, "Thoughts of Larxene" – in which, whenever this was suggested, he'd get a mouthful of chakram), Roxas picked his character. Axel had argued that this was unfair, as Roxas still always got to be his beloved little pipsqueak even when he lost, but Number XIII's stubbornness eventually caused the older man's protests to cease. Sometimes, he just couldn't say no to Roxas.

". . . Peach." Finished the blue-eyed blonde.

"Peach? _Princess_ Peach?"

"She's no worse than Samus."

"You're going to get it, kid."

"Eep!" Roxas seriously squealed and ducked, semi-dodging the pillow Axel launched at him. _Be lucky it wasn't an inferno I hurtled at you, kid_.

"Come on, Axel. Pick up your controller . . ."

"Graaah." He half-heartedly reached for it, but it seemed miles away. A snort issued from Roxas, and he snatched it and held it out towards his taller friend. Number VIII reluctantly took it and watched forlornly as a female in a poofy pink dress appeared on the screen.

"_Pikachu!_"

The battle seemed shorter than the last – for some strange and unexplainable reason, Axel was shoved off a cliff by an invisible pusher at least twenty times before the five minutes were up. Not even Peach's umbrella could save her from the fateful plight.

"I win again."

"Good for you." He thought his apathetic sarcasm would be enough to make the kid take a hint, but abruptly his theory was conquered.

"Play again?"

"How about we do something else?" Axel suggested nonchalantly, though his request went unnoticed by Roxas, who had re-glued his bulbous blue eyes onto the TV screen, until he was done switching to one-player mode.

Now in a zombie-like state, he was hardly responsive. "Like what?"

The wheels in Axel's calculating mind began to churn, working up a whim to accurately reply with. "Like . . . a spelling bee."

A spelling bee. Little short of brilliance, but it would do. The gamer managed to turn his head and cast a dubious glance at his friend who lazed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a little smirk playing around the corner of his lips and tossing his spiked chakram into the air, haphazardly catching it only when one of its various points would nearly graze his throat. Roxas had to raise a brow at him. They all knew that when Axel was bored, he tended to do potentially dangerous things – anything outrageous to try and revive his idleness. But what harm could a stupid little spelling bee do?

"You know, Roxas, those things you probably had at school when you were Somebody . . ." The redhead tauntingly droned when Roxas' response was to turn back to his video game.

"Yeah, whatever." He snapped, glaring at the TV monitor, and Axel knew he had hit a sore spot. _Roxie doesn't like to be reminded of what he doesn't know_, He inwardly sniggered. Not like he knew anything about his own past, but he didn't get moody when it was mentioned. _If only you knew who your Other was, Roxas. Then I wouldn't be able to keep you any longer, that's for certain. _

"_Pikachu!_"

Dammit. He had to act fast. The voltaic yellow mice were taking over the world.

"Okay, spell 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.'"

"What?" Roxas blurted at an instant, neglecting his game. Thank God for ADD. "Is that Spanish?"

The Pokémon screeched again, but this time it was more so in pain than in triumph.

"You made me die, Axel!" The controller vibrated briefly in Roxas's hearty grasp.

"Pity. I weep tears of lamentation for you." Axel sat up slightly, propping his back on the billowy pillows, and trailed his two index fingers down his face, imitating crying. The tear-shaped tattoos beneath his eyes hardly passed as looking like liquid. Roxas probably wondered why he hadn't just asked _that _big word.

"Countdown: If you don't get it, you lose and are at my mercy." '_At my mercy_'seemed to have an ominous lingering effect.

"Th-that's not fair . . ." Roxas sputtered, torn between trying to gather his thoughts enough to piece together the 30-something letters in that word or trying to win on Super Smash Bros.

"Super . . . S – U – P – E – R . . ."

"Five more parts to go . . ."

"Cali . . . C – A – L – I."

"So the kid knows his basics."

The familiar (and dreaded) echo of the game's booming voice penetrated both of their ears, sending Roxas into a panicked flurry.

"OhmyGod shit . . . F – R – A – G – I –"

"_Two_."

Was that Axel cackling, or was it just his imagination? His fingertips scrambled over the buttons and knobs on the Gamecube controller.

"LISTIC. Listic, uh. Ell, eye, ess teeeyesee eff eff eff eff –"

"_One_."

"Cr – ap."

"C – R – A – P, my dear Watson.

"You lose." Axel informed Roxas as his rugged head sunk into his large hands.

"What do I have to do?" He muttered behind his palms, sounding afraid of what Axel had in store for him due to his failure. The older teenager tapped his finger on his chin, looking deviously thoughtful for a moment before his expression brightened as the light bulb switched on. His finger curled, motioning for Roxas to come close as he stood up.

"Follow me."

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Heehee. Who can't deny that Super Smash Bros. pwns.  
Reviews are prettyful. I collect them. Will you donate today? ♥


	2. Larxene

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Yeees, I decided to add on Spelling Bee as a chapter of this fanfiction to avoid any unnecessary confusion. I'm still leaving the oneshot up, though… just because.

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**Spell Check  
**002 . The Official Spelling Bee

(_xxxxx_)

Today you would find the Savage Nymph lounging in the library, dainty body molding into the black leather couch that was positioned in the center of the room and on the edge of the rug, complying with her cloak that was conveniently the same hue. She'd be camouflaged; disappear into nothingness if not for her pale skin and hair. The two strands of hair which eminently resembled insect antennae fell into her face and brushed against the page she was reading out of a leather-bound book, and with absent-minded impatience she flicked the bangs away so she could continue down the lines of print.

_She looked into his deep green eyes and knew what he was feeling. Pain. Pain, the same brand that impaled her heart on a stick so she could hand it to him like a roasted hot dog, and then he could devour it with ravenousness. _

You stole my heart from me, Rob, _She thought. _And all you can do is want more.

"_Why don't you love me, Krystine?"_

"_I do." She wanted to add, _Can't you tell? _Gently, she touched his hand. He ripped it away, out of reach._

"_Then start acting like it!"_

Tch. It was sappy, strange, and promoted cannibalism, along with many other mixed messages. Larxene guessed it would do.

Too absorbed to hear the door creak open, her attention remained transfixed on the book until she felt the sofa suddenly dip downwards at the other end, as if someone had been at liberty to sit down uninvited. And he had done just that.

Her eyes rolled upwards and immediately Axel was in her line of vision. He had made himself quite comfortable there on the couch, propping his long legs up on the footrest that automatically slid out of its hiding place in front of the seat. His arms, like bones strewn across a tomb, rested outstretched on the backboard.

Axel, luckily, was easy to ignore when she didn't want to talk to him. At the moment, he made no sign of regarding her, so she tucked back into her novel.

_Her eyes fluttered close with a soft sigh that filtered through her lips, which next found themselves glued on the man's mouth. She let her body relax against the supporting line of his torso, fingertips tracing the small of his back . . . _

The sound of nails being filed interrupted this particularly delicious scene. She twitched. Her gaze snapped up once more, this time glaring daggers at the Nobody who reinforced flamboyant red hair.

"What do you want?"

Still not looking at her and rather examining his fingers, Axel heaved a sigh. "You know, Larxene," He paused amidst his drawl to offer her the nail file in a manicured grasp, and she responded by letting out a hiss of breath in declination, "I bet I could spell better than you could."

The book remaining in her lap was proof that she read frequently, and henceforth highly doubted Axel's claim. Even romance novels sometimes snuck SAT words in between the text, with plenty of context clues. And there were always dictionaries available if she was ever struck numb and baffled by a word.

"Do it." She insisted.

"What?"

"Spell 'better.'"

The fire-loving man wore a lazy smile (or grin, since someone as shifty as Axel never smiled, as far as Larxene was concerned) as he began to exploit the letters. "B – E –,"

She halted him, pinching her lips together as though something sour had penetrated her taste buds. "You're such a dork. What's with your obsession with words anyway?"

He raised his brows in attempts to appear innocent. "Not obsession, dearie – just fascination."

Larxene re-crossed her legs, unconvinced. It was arrantly obvious to every Organization XIII member that Number Eight was infatuated with flame, supreme memory, and being downright aggravating. "Whatever." She didn't prod further as her nose dipped once more to read her book. Now, where was she? Oh, yes. Axel had come in right at the good part.

"You know I could, Larxie." He was also known not to discard whatever mischievous plans that infested his mind. The persistence bugged her and wore on her nerves. Miserably, she realized that was what Axel must've intended. Stick around until the sparks fly. Well, he'd get his sparks, that was for sure.

"I'd like to see you try."

"All right. Larxene, I challenge you to a spelling bee."

"You can't have a spelling bee with just two people." She pointed out, their arrogant personalities colliding head on, but Axel seemed unfazed. She was feigning rebellion to this ridiculous idea but was actually silently hooked and interested.

"Sure you could." If Axel deemed it possible, then by God, it was possible.

"Who'll be the judge?"

Almost expecting him to say something as pompous as 'I will' (and then she'd be well out of the game), Larxene watched him call over his shoulder like a master would do to their dog.

"Oy, Roxas!"

Said person materialized at the doorway, stalking in a few regrettable steps with invisible shackles clamped around his ankles. Larxene thought she could faintly imagine the chinking of chains.

"So you've got the kid in child labor?" Her tone of voice sounded amused. She never did like Roxas, or understand why Axel always clung to him. Sadistically, she wondered if it was because he'd fall into the category of a pushover; an accessible victim doing slave work for the pyromaniac.

Roxas stated simply, "I lost in his spelling bee."

"First word, too. What haven't I taught ya, kiddo?" Axel turned his attention back to the young woman and stated his pick of torture. "If you lose, Larx, I get to kiss you."

It was as if she had sat down on something hot. The light blonde stood up on an instant. "Hell no!"

She searched his eyes to see if he was serious. There was always an air of flippancy around Axel, but you could never tell for sure. His large green eyes fixed on her seriously. Shit.

He carried on with explaining the outcomes like nothing had happened. "And if I lose –"

"You fuckin grovel at my feet. For a month."

He only offered her a sly smile. "Deal. But I won't lose."

A noise that might have been a growl rose from the depths of Larxene's throat as she gesticulated rudely. "From whom did you learn this concept of competition?"

"Luxord."

"Him and his damn gambling." Number Twelve fidgeted while standing, fists clenched at her sides. She'd have to give into his incessant pleas of playing strip poker with him so that he wouldn't play with Axel. It's funny how she wouldn't mind letting Luxord see her cloakless as much as she minded letting Axel kiss her.

From the corner, Roxas sighed audibly, not enjoying this task anymore than Larxene was. "Ready?"

"Just get it over with. The sooner I see Axel groveling at my feet in close enough range to kick him and break his face, the better."

"Patience is a virtue, dear heart." Larxene wondered what Axel could possibly know about virtues. "Your first word is 'salacity.'"

"Salacity. S – A – L – A – C – I – T – Y. Salacity." This was stupid. She felt like she had been transported back to elementary school days when her parents forced her to enter these despisable contests.

He applauded idly, each clap done by a black-gloved hand slick with sarcasm. "Roxas. Give me a word."

"What?" Larxene snapped. "_I'm_ supposed to give you a word. Stop bending the rules."

"Right, right. I was just checking whether or not you were paying attention." Somehow, she didn't believe that.

Her mind faltered, scrambling for a suitable word. "'Atramentous.'"

With his pointer finger, Axel ticked off each imaginary letter. "A – T – R – A – M – E – N – T – O – U – S. Got it memorized? Now, 'Lecherous.'"

She spelled this one, too, and it was easier this time. After her turn to pick, a word she was decidedly unfamiliar with came up.

"'Concupiscence.'"

Larxene began to get harried. "What?"

"It means 'a strong sexual desire; lust,'" Axel quoted.

"You're disgusting."

The redhead merely waited placidly, expression revealing nothing. But there was a glint in his emerald eyes that meant no good, and she wanted to punch him for it. A frown crinkled her lips and furrowed her brow. She was determined not to lose. She never lost.

Undoubtedly Axel assumed the same with himself.

She could be reading a juicy and hot part in her book right now, but instead of sweating from the sensual visionary, she was sweating from the pressure of Axel's hungry eyes, eagerly awaiting her downfall. Oh, where did she go wrong? She barely even trusted herself enough to repeat the word back to him correctly, let alone spell it.

"C – O – N – C – U – P – I – S –," The girl hesitated.

"E –"

"Ehhhh," The lame buzzer sounded, not from the judge but from Axel, who swiftly got to his feet like a stealthy jaguar pouncing on its vulnerable and unknowing prey and wrapped a steely arm around her slender waist. He towered over her for just a second before sweeping his crimson-maned head down to kiss her. His lips were warm and for the briefest of moments his tongue flicked out from his mouth and caressed her own.

Somewhere in the background, Roxas was making gagging noises. Larxene wished she could retch into Axel's sneaky maw.

At such close quarters, it was difficult to kick the pyro in the male parts, but she managed to anyway. He detached himself with little less than a grunt.

"Damn you, Axel."

Despite his discomfort, Axel grinned. "Already been done."

_Note to self: Never let Axel challenge you to a seemingly harmless spelling bee again when you don't want an undesirable outcome._


	3. Luxord

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**Spell Check  
**003 . Issues with Commitment

(_xxxxx_)

_God damn Axel._

The thoughts Larxene imagined could not be heard by any one else's ears but her own, though it was plausible that the heated mental insults could also slip from her mind with the steam that was jetting out of her ears; figuratively speaking, of course. In reality, that would probably be Axel taking on that certain characteristic; he was, after all, the pyro. Doubtless she had sparks flying around her head in a scintillating golden halo instead of flame, smoke, or any other arsonist paraphernalia. Her bangs certainly were aroused with electricity; currents of static coursed through the wispy blonde tendrils like blood through capillary veins.

"_Damn_ it!"

The Savage Nymph detonated as she stomped through the extensive corridors of Castle Oblivion, combat boots creating thunderous explosions that resounded within the platinum-plated chambers with each heated step. They were punctuated by a curse, one per every footfall, and each one more eloquent than the last. Demyx, who had developed a special detector for Larxene's profanity (as he was the one she hurled her anger at the most because he always seemed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time), cringed in his bedroom the floor beneath and began to tentatively pluck at his sitar's strings, in order to make some noise to cover up the sacrilegious speech that graced his ears.

She continued down the hall, indestructible. Nothing could stand in her path – not even Zexion, who decided to stick his nose in a book (_Harry Potter_, she thought with distaste) and wander aimlessly around the middle of the hallway while he read, oblivious to the freight train heading his way.

"MOVE IT, EMO KID." And with little other warning, a black-sleeved arm lashed out and swept the area before her clean, knocking the enormous book (maybe it was the Bible instead) from his hands and sending it flying in a fluttering, one thousand page marathon across the room. As it clattered on the floor, the violet-haired individual teetered, as if struck by massive heel-rocking shock, and trembled his lower lip.

When she had passed on to the adjacent corridor, Number VI sniffed and quietly retreated to the corner and bent over to retrieve his book, which was in fact titled _The Scientific Method_.

After thirty more seconds of tromping towards her destination (God, why did Luxord reside so far _away_?), Larxene stopped and pondered why she hadn't just created a portal to his room.

Maybe because she was afraid of what the gambler did in his room in the evenings.

She found herself at his doorway, which was thankfully closed. Thankfully because she didn't exactly wish to see the inside of his room without a warning beforehand, and luckily because her anger had subsided to a dull throb at the base of her skull. If it had still engulfed the young woman, then she would have been infuriated at the closed door and kicked it down.

There were muffled sounds coming from the inside of the room; voices, or so she prayed. Tilting her head, she gently pressed her nest of straw-coloured hair and laid her ear against the metal portal. Curiosity sometimes got the best of her – the reminder caused her to unconsciously raise her hand up to touch her lips, where the feel of Axel's still burned. Another pulse of anger threatened to rise – but she shoved it back down just as the voices became distinct.

". . . Sixes?"

"Not quite, Xaldin."

A muttered curse. "It was worth a try."

"Go fish, my friend."

Larxene drew her head back and quirked a brow. Go fish? They were playing _Go Fish_?

Only Roxas was known for that, with his pet hamster. It was a pitiful sight to watch, really – not only was a fifteen year-old playing a six year-old card game, but the hamster was unresponsive except for when he snatched the cards from the boy's fingers and nibbled on them. Axel complained about the ever-present smell of shitty paper for weeks.

"But Axel, it's not Chigger's fault; he just likes the spades," She once overheard Roxas insist, flashing his doe-like orbs of forget-me-not blue in his best friend's direction. He learned, though, that their friend the pyro was merciless, after removing the rodent's cage from its regular spot on the dresser in his room. Axel would learn that Larxene had absolutely no mercy, as well.

She applied light pressure on the door, and it opened. Number XII had to blink her eyes twice to get her vision in check, for the room was dimly lit only by a lonely, naked bulb. It released a pool of margarine-yellow light onto a pool table that was positioned in the center of the room, separating two males cloaked in black. She flicked her hand back across her protruding stands of hair, shifting her gaze to a personal cigarette vending machine standing against one forest green wall. _Interesting_. A permanent stench of booze, smoke, and cologne flooded her nostrils seconds later, its progress probably delayed by the cloud of fog that was like a ghastly preternatural substance as it slid in front of the light, translucent.

"Can't say I appreciate your decorating, Luxord, though I must admit; it is rather . . . original." She said after a moment of studying the place.

The man with the neatly trimmed goatee, having already placed his hand of cards down on the sea green foam of the table, sidled his fingers before weaving them together. He looked up diligently, façade pleasantly expressionless. "What is it that brings you here, Larxene?"

Now, she always knew that Luxord had a sour intent, and she didn't like it. She knew by the camouflaged (though not entirely concealed) edge to his voice that he didn't wish her here. _I don't knock – deal with it, you dirty Brit. _Larxene did not know for a fact that Luxord was of British descent, as you tended to forget such petty things after years of being 'dead' (or at least to your former home and culture). However, his airy accent was anything but.

"I'd be quiet, Luxord; the rest of the Organization would be interested in knowing your habits of playing 'Go Fish' at night with Xaldin." His already albino face paled, and he and Xaldin exchanged nervous glances. The large man shifted in his chair, as if contemplating something very important (it was made known because of his visage, which was contorted in slow pain), then finally scooted out of his chair in a clutter of scraping chair legs on the carpet. He dismissed himself by muttering a half-hearted goodbye to his partner, who looked rather ungrateful of his hospitality. Then he and his long ropes of braided hair were gone in a swirl of darkness.

The Gambler of Fate spoke, displacing her from her reverie of how a man could have so much hair. In the sole company of Luxord, she forgot about the rest of the Organization, all of whom supported great masses of the stuff; such as Saïx, Xemnas, Zexion, Marluxia, Axel . . . She, being the only female in the group, had short hair (if you did not count her antennae, as a certain fellow member so charmingly put it). How did that turn out?

"Very well then, Larxene. I will not go against that particular admonishment." He said, tight lips crinkling into a very faint smile. _Prick._

"Pff. Save that word for Axel, if you're ever unfortunate to come across him between now and . . . whenever his ridiculous obsession ends," She grunted, waving a hand to accentuate the dramatic situation. Fidgeting, she flicked her blue eyes to the door amidst her unusual disquiet. A thought occurred to her: Axel may have followed her. Then again, if she was expecting him, she'd better look all around the room for any hints of a portal so she could hopefully hightail it out of there. Further cases of sexual harassment were not objects she wished to collect, especially if the sex offender was the spiky-haired, smirking little twit –

She rubbed her lips again, furiously with the back of her sleeve.

Straightening her shoulders and her confidence, she slipped into the chair that Xaldin had abandoned. The one who wielded the element of lightning and storm stared impassively across the table at Luxord, whose brows had arched in interest.

"Axel, really? What is it that he's doing now?" Luxord and Axel were actually _buddies_ of a sort. You know, like football-watching buddies – but worse. They partook in all the sins of older males together – drinking, gambling, and indulging. Well, Larxene may have caught them stumbling home drunk once from a stripping bar, and Axel's pants had nearly been falling down; she couldn't recall the situation lucidly, as she had been blinded by unexpected passion that had built up and spewed out of her unfeeling, heartless being in a rage for the young man's stupidity. He had sputtered out apologies and nearly been scared out of his wits, (which she doubted that he had any that night) but probably didn't know what he was apologizing _for. _Larxene realized she didn't know, either.

"Oh, you know Axel." She said in an off-handed way, shrugging a shoulder. Explaining why she was here in detail – which would mean going behind-the-scenes and spilling the previous hour's escapade – was not something she wished to expose to the world right now.

"Unfortunately, sometimes I think I don't." He admitted, lowering his gaze in an almost guilty way. She raised a brow at his irregular reaction.

"I don't think understanding Axel is exactly unfortunate."

". . . You're right."

She sighed, relieved that he didn't argue.

_Well, are we moving on with it or not?_

"To answer your initial question: apparently, I'm here for _you_, Luxord." She said, tracing shapes idly on the surface of the table with a fingertip and looking down while she did it. With planned precision she slowly looked up, drawing her lashes into a lavished curl of oiled soot. Luxord appeared to be gradually relaxing at her appeal. The corner of her pale lips curved upwards in steadily gaining triumph.

"Me?" Not so incredulous, not so questioning. Just wanting to know one thing: why. And show me.

"Mmm." She leaned foreward in her seat, over the expanse of sea green tabletop and closer to the expectant man. She stopped when she was sure that he could feel her hot, flowery breath on his face and continued to smile.

"You like to deal, yes?"

"It's my trade, my dear." _I'm sure it is, you slick bastard._

"How about we make a _deal_, then. I'll 'play' for you . . ." Her finger pointed to the stack of cards listlessly and drawing a circle around it in the air, trying to draw his attention from her bosom to the objection, ". . . If you cease to _deal_ with our friend Axel."

Finally, his eyes snapped back to her face. "'Play?'"

"Poker."

"Ah, poker. You wouldn't happen to mean . . ."

"I do."

He paused and studied her, as if trying to determine whether she was serious or not. God help her, she was.

"Well, then."

His hand reached for the deck and began to shuffle. She carefully eased back into her chair with gratitude.

"The rules of the game, Miss Larxene?"

"I am familiar with them." The statement delivered a mask of surprise to his face, but he continued to expertly divide the cards up and mold them back together. Mold, divide, mold, and divide. She watched, nearly entranced by the whirr of movement and colour: white, black, and red.

It wasn't like she was inexperienced with these matters. She couldn't let the boys have all of the fun, now could she? _I am not a prude, no matter what the others may think._ Just because she hadn't dated anyone since joining the Organization didn't mean she had to turn into a nun (all though, her apparel did match theirs quite closely). Consequentially, she did not believe in dating in this sort of after life, because they were Nobodies. They could not love (or so she was told). A relationship would be a pointless and utterly pathetic pseudo desire to pursue.

When he deemed it a worthy mix, Luxord passed out the cards in less than a few seconds (_probably eager to start_, she thought with an invisible roll of her eyes) – a rapid succession of gunfire made from a harmless deck of playing cards. Well, not so harmless: they did, after all, make Roxas's rat – er, hamster – rather sick, and they were the chosen weapons of Luxord. He killed people with them. So, maybe not so harmless.

She stared at the six cards lain face-down before her. _This is my fate,_ She internally professed, and felt a strange sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Nervous? Naw.

Larxene was _never_ nervous.

"Any threes, Larx –"

"Threes? No, but I've got a twos." A voice interrupted, filled with joking. From the corner of her eye, Larxene spotted a hedgehog's back of cherry red spines bobbing atop of a grinning head. She scowled. _Axel._

The tall individual strode in without invitation, followed by a boy who appeared almost half his height. Axel collapsed into a seat at the head of the table, purposely going around Larxene to access it, and propped his black-clad legs onto the table with a reassuring _thump_. Roxas silently took a seat in the opposite chair, first attempting to make unattainable eye contact with Luxord to make sure if he was allowed, whose gaze was pointed in a glare at Axel for interrupting the game.

"I have to tell you, you walk quickly when you're angry, Larxene. Like a mouse in a labyrinth looking for the piece of cheese. I had to ask Zexy where you were heading, and that was a tricky task, as he was nearly crying when I did so. Could barely stutter out a word, the little moping bugger." Grin. _So cheery, chipper little birdie. Fly, fly away, and be gone with you, _Larxene thought sourly.

When Larxene only heightened her glare of daggers (and popped her claws beneath the table) in response, Luxord 'ahem'ed politely.

"Well, the more the merrier, I suppose." He said, though a little begrudgingly.

"What were you two playing?" Roxas asked curiously, noticing the splayed cards between the two.

"Poker," Stated Luxord simply. Larxene inwardly praised him for his lack of subliminal messages.

"Oh." His voice sunk. "I was hoping Gold Fish."

"It's 'Go Fish,' Roxas." Axel corrected; "And besides, why would you two be playing a card game like that this late?" _And right after I chased you out of the library? _His eyes foretold, though he did not speak out loud.

Roxas was glad to support his friend. "There has got to be a catch," He said. "Larxene doesn't like card games. She said so when she fried Chigger's cards that one time."

"_My_ cards," Luxord all but gasped. Roxas looked at him innocently.

Axel leaned back further in his seat, folding his arms over his flat chest. "I'll bet you it's strip poker."

"Oh, nuh-uh!" Roxas exclaimed, nearly leaping out of his chair as he jerked his head towards Larxene. "Not _Larxene; ewww _–"

"Will you two _cut it out_?" The woman yelled in a snappish, final way. "And no more bets, Axel, I told you that."

"You expect me to listen to you, Superior?" The redhead mocked.

Luxord seemed bemused. "It wouldn't be wise to call her by the true Superior's title, Axel."

"Oh. I suppose it'd be wise to go apologize to him personally, then. Okay." His lips cocked into a smirk, the dark tattoos underneath his eyes glittering distinctly on his shadowed complexion. _I win_, his bright emerald eyes read.

The only time Axel had ever apologized to Xemnas was . . . well, never. Larxene sat, a little stumped at her sudden conclusion. It had never occurred to her before that _Axel could get away with absolutely everything_. He had done plenty of bad deeds and broken a mountain of rules since joining the Organization, but never once had he been severely punished as all the rest. And, he had managed to kiss her without being killed. That was still on her to-do list, mind.

She crossed her arms and continued glaring at the fellow Organization member. The atmosphere around them was cold; unrelenting.

"Will you play or will you not, Axel?" Luxord asked, sounding a bit peeved. Or perhaps he was just impatient at this terse tirade.

"Oh," he responded, brilliant cat-eyes flashing like they would when a feline spots a cornered mouse, "I'll play."

Larxene, though wanting to object, knew it was futile. Axel would only charm his friend into letting him play – besides, he probably thought, what harm was there?

"Roxas'll have to leave, though."

This caused the boy to blink and whirl his great saucer eyes at his older friend, torn and shocked. "Aww; why?" Poor kid. He sounded really bummed. Wait – did she _want_ Roxas to stick around when everyone was stripping? Um, no.

"Do you really want to see Larxene naked, kid?" As though Axel were reading her very thoughts, he spoke them aloud, giving Roxas his perfectly understandable reasons. "Adult content. Out."

"You're funny, Axel. You make it sound as if I'm actually going to lose."

"You did just an hour ago, didn't you?"

She pulled her lower lip in, tightened it, and refrained herself from saying anything more by pinning it down with her teeth. The past was not something to get worked up over. What happened, happened . . . and would hopefully never happen again.

Axel turned back to Roxas. "You're dismissed. Consider your freedom an early Christmas gift; Signed, Your Friend Axel." Roxas cared not to snort at His Friend Axel's peculiar humour and summoned up a portal rather quickly out of the game room. This left the three Nobodies to stare each other down with intense gazes, blue green blue, preparing for battle.

"Your hand, Axel," Luxord announced, and with a flick of his wrist, made six cards line up neatly before the redhead.

They all gathered up their cards and examined them, cupping their hands to make it a difficult and telltale journey for anyone's wandering gazes that would just so happen to peek over.

Larxene checked her cards, eyes memorizing the colours, symbols, and numbers engraved on each one's face. It wasn't a bad hand – but it wasn't superb, either.

"Before we start," Axel drawled after a moment, "I'd like to make a proposal."

"You want to marry Larxene?" The blonde of the masculine gender inquired, detecting mixed messages.

"In his dreams."

"Not even in those, Larx."

She couldn't explain why, but a feeling of being physically crushed was always associated with being rejected. She clenched her hand and jerked it under the table, willing the undesirable feeling away.

"Aren't I special."

"Oh, I have dreams about you – silence your weeping heart! Just about burning you instead."

"Well then I'm happy to inform you that I have dreams about first castrating you, then getting Demyx to douse your silly hair and water-phobic body, impaling your scant gut with my knives, and then channeling the highest voltage of electricity into you so you suffer a horrible, horrible death."

Her sadism caused both men to blink. For once, Axel could not think of a quick enough comeback. Larxene settled back into her chair with a small smirk. _Now it's one to two – I'm gaining on you._

"Your statement, Axel?" Luxord asked after a few seconds passed by of pause.

His eyes flashed to Larxene. "Before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, I was going to ask if you'd like to do something a little . . . out of the ordinary tonight."

"I think Larxene joining us for a round is out of the ordinary enough," Number X observed, albeit of his observation, interested.

"Let's forget the cards for once and have a little spelling bee, humm?"

"Oh, _no._ I am _not_ going through another one of your idiotic little 'spelling bees –'" Larxene immediately began to interject, before being silenced by the wave of Luxord's hand.

"It sounds rather _different_ indeed, Axel. I suppose I'll try to take you up on your offer." Now both males wore a grin, as if sharing some kind of secret code. Oh, right.

"I guess we're going to be stripping still?"

"Sharp as a bullet, Larxene."

"Right you are."

She fell back at the chorus with a slight frown tugging at her lips.

"You men are despicable. And bullets aren't sharp, just so you know."

"Xigbar's apparently are."

"Only because you're the only one who is unfortunate enough to be made a target for them –"

"Ah," Luxord sighed softly, looking on the snappish argument and smiling, "You two are too charming together."

Larxene, who had nearly been close to climbing up over the table and strangling Axel's slender throat and Axel, who had been acting as if nothing had happened (or slowly sliding his chair back to put himself at more distance from the bloodthirsty Larxene), both turned and stared at the gambler dumbly.

"Honestly though, people," Larxene snorted at the false reference, "can't we get on with the game?"

"I'd be more than glad to."

"I'm sure you would," The young woman quipped.

"Honestly!"

"Your first word is 'Contingency,' Luxord."

And so it began. The fated spelling bee – this time, the outcome could be certainly less pleasant than the previous. Then again, if she managed to succeed this time, the all-around word-lover would be sent to his own drowning humiliation.

For ten minutes, every letter was clearly enunciated, beautifully articulated, and correctly spelled. Then Axel slipped on the word 'Superfluous.'

"How could you get that wrong, Axel? It's so eighth grade." Despite her protest, Larxene was elated that he had made a mistake.

Irritably, he said in his defense, "Those 'u's always get to me." He slipped off a glove, revealing a hand that appeared even paler than his face. It was toilsome to differentiate the shades of skin in the faulty lighting. "No matter. Let's see you try and spell 'Exacerbate.'"

"You two are only exacerbating me," Luxord commented, and they both ignored him.

"E – X – A – S – wait, what the hell!" She glared narrowly at a snickering Axel, who had conjured a flame in the palm of his hand to flare up in her peripheral vision at the designated time. Her antennae dangled in her face and nearly threatened to extend their lengths and whip him for his cheating behavior. "You distracted me!

"No, YOU –" Whirling on Luxord, she pointed an accusing finger at him. "—just _had_ to comment and ruin my concentration –"

Axel regained his composure, the muscles around his mouth relaxing into a smile. "Face it, Larxene. You're a sore loser."

"I refuse to lose to a bunch of _losers,_" She spat, crossing her arms.

"Enough. I believe it's my turn; and, Larxene, that's a glove." Larxene bickered and muttered incoherently while removing her left mitten at the host's request. She flung it across the room, aiming for Axel's face but instead the black blur glided feet past. She visibly simmered.

"Nice aim."

"Stow it."

Soon Larxene and Axel had gotten rid of their gloves, boots, and socks; Luxord was the only one fully clothed. Larxene blamed his sly trickery – she could have sworn, now, that X-ray vision was within his range of abilities . . .

"How do you keep on _winning_?" Inquired the female washout, yanking at her zipper she was trying to remove instead of her entire coat.

"It's the British in him," Axel stated, though not all that lightly. He was torn in between eagerly staring at Larxene and frowning at Luxord.

"If this were real poker, I'd say he'd be a Jew."

"You don't have to be German to be Jewish," Said Axel, whose name was in fact of German origin.

"He doesn't have brown hair, though," She pointed out.

"This discussion is making me doubt my rights," Luxord commented, eyebrows vaguely raised.

"Everyone's a little bit racist."

"Don't start quoting Avenue Q around me, Larxene. Roxas does it enough," Axel groaned, undoubtedly recalling dreadful memories of his little (butt) buddy singing "If You Were Gay" to him when the Superior happened to materialize in their room that same moment. Xemnas was quite disturbed by Axel's apparent change in orientation, and left in a hurry.

When Larxene had heard about the minor escapade from Demyx, who had heard from Zexion, who had heard from Lexaeus, who had heard from Saïx, she badgered Axel for an entire day and persisting that he was indeed un-straight. "I am not gay," The fire-wielder had insisted tirelessly, but she had yet to either fully believe his statement or simply let the fateful misunderstanding go.

"If you were queer . . ." She began to lilt softly, smirking.

". . . I wouldn't want you to take off your cloak right now," He finished, mirroring her smirk, in which did not have a pair for long, as Larxene's was replaced with a scowl.

"Any day now, Larxene."

Reluctantly she stood up.

"Squandering your time doesn't help any . . ." Luxord droned.

"Oh, shut up, both of you. I'm going." The Savage Nymph hissed, fingers fumbling with the zipper. She turned her back on them, facing that battered little cigarette machine that Axel had been fondling over the entire time, but never once spent the money on retrieving a pack from it. It was ironic that for someone who breathed in smoke the majority of his undead life, he did not smoke.

"Smoking causes cancer and death," He always said mechanically whenever the topic was brought up – more so often whenever Xigbar offered him a carefully wrapped smoke.

"I bet I smoked when I was whole," Roxas observed wisely one day, as if stating the prodigious meaning of life.

"I bet you did," Axel proffered, though highly doubted a boy like Sora had ever befouled his hand by touching one. "I bet you smoked up the entire house one night with your rowdy friends, got drunk, and had to have the firemen come because you were burning up. And that's how you died," He finished on an optimistic note.

Roxas pouted. "I think you're lying." He highly supported a cooler death than that, with guns and beasts and explosions. Never would he guess at suicide.

With a growl, the blonde slipped from her heavy coat and turned back to her chair, dressed in a plain black T-shirt and the standard opaque jeans they were all required to wear (at least during the daytime hours). Axel applauded listlessly, and she shot him another chilling look, armed with a word.

"'Misogynist,'" She all but snarled. It was more of an insult than a legitimate question, but she doubted he'd get it wrong since he fit the definition so well.

To her surprise, he got it wrong.

"Just to get even with Larxie and all. I felt bad for her being the only one coatless." He explained after settling back down in a tank top that clung too much around his abdomen, defining his broad torso and compact muscles in his stomach well. She looked away, gritting her teeth.

Words later, Larxene and Luxord's positions had not changed, but Axel was clothed more scantily than the rest. His shirt had been done away with, exposing his finely-toned chest that Larxene made an effort to ignore.

When Luxord asked Axel to spell 'Intransigence,' off came his pants that would make any fangirl squeal with triumph and delight. Larxene was not surprised that his boxers supported tiny flames on a black fabric. In truth (which, this was a sort of scary thought), she could probably guess all of the men's boxers in the Organization. The designs were simple: pink flowers for Marluxia (silk), cards for Luxord, The Hulk for Lexaeus, Dr. Eggman for Xemnas, AC/DC for Demyx, Japanese kanji for Saïx (or Speedo), Hawthorne Heights for Zexion or some other emo screamo band, Bill Nye for Vexen, Captain Jack Sparrow for Xigbar (or commando), Naruto for Xaldin (or Rent – Xaldin was quite fond of Angel), and hamsters or Hot Wheels for Roxas. Or briefs. Or diapers, given his frequent bouts of immaturity.

Larxene grinned when her turn came around to demand a word from Axel. Seeing him nude wasn't exactly on her agenda, but if it was going to help her get vengeance on him, then so be it. "Axel, spell 'Vociferous.'"

The redhead's lips created a tenuous line as he clicked his front teeth together, biding time.

"Axel . . . ?" Luxord questioned after twenty seconds had gone by without him answering.

"You don't know it, do you." Sadistic glee surged in Larxene's voice as she placed her chin on her curled hand, bright blue eyes alight and dancing with victory.

"_Axel_," The Gambler of Fate said, raising a card to strike him with.

Finally did Axel stir. "Well, this has been a great time of bonding with you and all, and I'm sure it'll be committed to my memory for the years to come. But I'm afraid that I must excuse myself from this game at this very moment."

Before either of them could stop him, he created a portal and fled. It'd be ignorant to say that he didn't hear Larxene's scream of outrage as he disappeared into oblivion.

"That _coward!_"

In the end, she _would _get her revenge. She would see to it personally.

**A **u t h 0 r ' s **e**ND **N **0 t e  
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Ahahaha, yes, Roxas has a hamster. I think it matches his personality / appearance very well. -shot.-  
And don't ask about the underwear thing… omg… my brother and I had fun with that.  
Because I am quite the failure at vocabulary, it'd be much appreciated ( and would save me a lot of time ) if you suggested a couple of advanced words to befuddle the Organization characters with that you may know. I'll love you and your SAT word skillz foreverrr. :o

Next victims that are up: Xigbar, Xaldin, and Lexaeus. Including a few special guests here and there.


	4. Xaldin, Xigbar, Lexaeus

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**Spell Check  
**004 . Spilled Milk

(_xxxxx_)

After mentally wincing at Larxene's piercing screeches which screamed their own sorrowful brand of agony, Axel retreated (fled) to the kitchen. It was relatively warm (sometimes – when Vexen the Ice Princess wasn't there) and spacious (at least the dining area was) – and it had food. That fact alone made it Axel's second-favourite room, only one behind Roxas's. Even the semi-undead craved meat from time to time. For Pete's sake, they weren't _vampires_ (though Xemnas would probably second that).

Having warped to the dining room to try and evade any instant suspicion from his female counterpart (it was doubtless she'd try Roxas's room first to find him – if she even was going to go on such a treacherous search for such a treacherous, treacherous man), he walked past the almost courtly rectangular table and into the cooking area. There was a simpler (and much smaller) table set up rather distastefully in the corner, used for sitting down when waiting on food or just for the sole reason of existing. Sometimes the Organization unconsciously clung to solid possessions and gathered up as much as they could, just to feel their presence (as they had none but the eerie aura of void surrounding them). They were materialistic in that way, and a guilty materialism it was, but you couldn't blame them. If they failed at collecting hearts, then they might as well pile up garage sale junk or expensive merchandise. For example, Demyx and his collection of old Elvis Presley albums. In Axel's opinion, they were crap, crap, crap, but to each their own, he guessed.

At that time the table was occupied by Xigbar, Xaldin, and Lexaeus, all cramped up on one curve of the round table. The Sharpshooter's legs were propped up on the furniture and taking up more room than necessary (though his slight frame was at least condensed). It was an act Demyx would probably scold him for, as who wanted dirty boots on a table you _ate_ on? Nevertheless, rule patrol was not there, and Xigbar went on polishing his gun and cocking it experimentally, occasionally jabbing its butt into Xaldin's back that didn't appear all too unintentional. From time to time he'd pick up a half-eaten pickle and gnaw on it, piss yellow juice dribbling down his mottled jawbone as he did so.

Xaldin was turned away from the spray of dill-flavoured liquid, bent slightly over a piece of paper littered with gridlines and dappled with X's and O's. He was apparently idly playing the game with Lexaeus, the cinnamon hair-coloured man, who seemed vaguely amused by it and stared at the table raptly. Axel had heard that Xaldin also played Go Fish – he wondered if it was some sort of inner-kid in him. Even so, he caught Lexaeus's eyes wandering, two bulbous things that dragged instead of rolled. He knew he didn't have enough brains to pay attention to even the simplest of games, after all.

"Hello, men," The pyro rumbled in a cheerful greet that veiled his derisiveness, turning towards the refrigerator. It opened with a satisfying _pulling_ sensation, its resistance giving into Axel's touch. His hand reached out for the carton of milk, hesitated, and reconsidered. Instead he chose a can of Nozz-A-La™ on the shelf beneath it, cracked it open, and guzzled it down.¤

"OMG, Xigbar is a pickle." Lexaeus half snickered and half giggled, naturally oblivious to the younger Organization member's entrance and too absorbed in the Wonderful World of Lexaeus and Pickled Cucumbers.

"Your mother was a pickle," Xigbar timely retorted.

There was an audible sniff from behind Axel. "You meanie. Don't talk about my mother in that way!"

Xaldin, who had ultimately ignored their argument from the beginning, drawled on without looking up from the tic-tac-toe board. "Hello, Axel. Why don't you have any pants on."

Before anyone else could react, Xigbar (who did have an advantage over the rest of them because of his skill in manipulation of gravity) turned around in his chair which made an ear-trembling _squeeeak _across the metallic floor. "Holy mother of Christ! Are those my boxers?" Apparently his age hadn't filed his physical vigilance down that much, but it sure had a negative effect on his brain. _He's going senile_, Axel thought, though knew the truth: Xigbar had been a little off his rocker since he'd come to the Organization as its second member. They all knew that he went commando, honestly. Why would he care for flame, anyway? That was clearly Axel's trademark.

"Oh. Right." Axel simply stood there in all his stripped glory before letting his lips curve into a slight smile. "Excuse me one moment." Luckily he had snatched his clothing in the nick of time on the way out of Luxord's room before Larxene's clawed fingers could scathe any one of his appendages and restrain him. They were casually swung over his shoulder, a drooping mass of black. Technically, running around in your under drawers was not not allowed (since Xemnas committed this sin frequently), but if he had been seen by anyone less apathetic, they'd begin to wonder.

It was like playing Super Smash Bros. Melee too loudly – some ignored you, others told.

Axel quickly stepped into his pants, pulled on his shirt (causing his tomato red hair to flip back as he did so), and zipped up his cloak. The Nobodies at the table half-watched this solitary procession boredly. Xigbar had torn off another hunk off of his tubular pickle with his curiously sharp, curiously vicious, yellowed teeth.

"I see you've been having fun with Luxord." Came Xaldin's dry voice from behind when he was done dressing; though 'fun' was accentuated to be gratingly suggestive.

"I always have fun with Luxord."

"As if!" Xigbar verbally sneered, swinging his torso back around to glare ahead at the adjoining dinning room with his solitary glinting amber iris bright with irrational, pseudo anger.

"A little jealousy, I hear?" Inquired Axel, keeping the upbeat tone of light joking in his voice.

"You're such an ass sometimes, Axel," Xaldin commented, finally lifting his eyes from the table. His hardened gaze focused on the slim redhead, who only shrugged in return. He turned back to the refrigerator, which was still ajar and spilling light (_Light, so rare in an in-between world of nothingness,_ he idly mused) out across the floor in a slab of yellow, and grabbed a small plate with a limp thing that resembled a leftover stuffed potato on it. It, being the mutilated vegetable, was probably Zexion's. He'd rather eat rabbit food as opposed to meat. This concept of vegetarianism would have puzzled Axel if he had been in a more contemplative mood, but for now he was technically just an emotionless blob.

He carried it back to the table, balancing it with only one hand supporting the rim, and sat down on the opposite side of where the three older men were sitting. Dropping the plate with a resounding clatter onto the table, he proceeded on picking out the slimy chunks of cottage cheese from the strange, cool mixture of mashed potato, onion, butter, and cheese. The separating process went on while his elongated jawbone rested in his palm, elbow jutting out on the table, feigning boredom. Just looking at the spiky-haired male made the others slow down in what they were doing, lacking energy. The dismal atmosphere dragged on until Axel lazily flicked a globule of soured cheese at Xigbar and landed on his cheek with a quiet (yet abrupt) _splat_. This caused Number Two to start, mouth twisted into a growl as the particle slipped off and left a smear of off-white residue in its place. He began to reach for his gun when Xaldin put an interjecting hand on it to lower the machine back down, and Xigbar grumbled something about having to clean that new grease spot up and whipped out his near-soiled cloth and began to work furiously on polishing it.

Now there were enough pieces of cottage cheese scattered around the other side of the table that Lexaeus took notice of them. Instead of simply flinging them across the three foot distance of the table's diameter, he insisted on using his brute strength and slapping them. Axel's pallid face was soon dappled by lighter coloured specks like grotesquely oversized whiteheads that had popped up in the amazing time of less than a minute.

Finally, when they had advanced onto green onion slices that were too thin to launch as catapult artillery, Axel took the advantage and piped up. "From what I gather, you men are bored.

"How about a little spelling bee to pass the time, eh?"

"A spelling bee? What's that?" Lexaeus asked, pulled in with interest.

"It's like a competition, where you try to spell a word correctly. Here, I'll give you one –"

"Yeah, yeah," Xigbar interjected. "What's the catch?"

Axel, who had been leaning across the table with his hand splayed out in a gesture of demonstration, closed it into a fist at Xigbar's abrasive intonation. He switched his violent green eyes to the gunslinger, a weary expression masking his visage. "Well, you see, this week I have dishwashing duty . . ."

The trio, who knew Axel avoided water like the plague, nodded intelligibly.

"So basically, we wash the dirty dishes if we lose." Xaldin summarized.

"Correct."

"What's in it for us?" Xigbar spoke up again.

"Well, I know for a fact that you, Lexaeus, and Xaldin have dishwashing duty the following weeks. I'll do all of the batches if I lose." With his rationality and careful level-headed reasoning, Axel was convincing – even persuasive. He turned back to Lexaeus, lifting his brows. "Ready for the word, Lex?" A master teaching its puppy to beg for a treat.

He made it a show to crack his knuckles, miniature fireworks exploding from the intimidating action. "Sure."

"Okay, then. Spell 'Deoxyribonucleic acid.'"

"D . . ." Lexaeus hesitated momentarily, then picked back up. "E – O – X – Y – R – I – B – O – N – U – C – L – E – I – C – A – C – I – D. That wasn't really one word, Axel."

The table – all except Xaldin – seemed stunned that Lexaeus had gotten a word (or two) right. The small giant of a man insisted that he remembered having to memorize it in the 10th grade. _And yet you didn't know what a spelling bee was,_ Axel thought, and mentally shook his head.

Xigbar didn't seem pleased.

"Screw you and the horse you rode on."

Lexaeus stared at him blankly. "But I didn't ride on any horse, Xigbar."

"Fuck you, then!"

Following soon thereafter, Xigbar was asked how to spell 'floccinaucinihilipilification' by Xaldin and got tongue-tied with all the i's. "It's like spelling Mississippi or something, you know?"

The man with his hair strung back in a ponytail folded his bony arms over his chest and blinked at Axel in finality. "I'll make you spell a word. I tell you, this'll knock your socks off. Man, can I guar-an-tee it."

"All right – shoot."

"'Neuroendocrinology.'"

Axel spelled it; Xigbar cursed.

"Now Xigbar, we don't need any of that." Axel gave him a winning smile that told the opposite of what he thought and said. Xigbar was neither flattered nor amused – he settled back with grumbles issuing from his raspy larynx.

However, he could not hold back complaint. "Really, since when did you study anatomy?"

"In less time than you have, old man."

Of course, the pyro hadn't meant it in an insulting way, but it got the same reaction out of Xigbar as it would have if Axel had called him a 'shithead' or a 'fag.' Riled up, the gunman hiked up his weapon, jabbing it in the air as a gesture familiar to a soundless war cry, and then positioned it so that it was pointing directly at the younger Organization member. His one eye was rolling in its socket, a madman's sheen covering it, and his mouth was twisted into a comical snarl.

"Mister, we deal in lead!"

Lexaeus blinked, unperturbed by the battle-to-commence and only focusing on the small detail of what ammo Xigbar's gun carried. "Xiggy has lead bullets?"

"No, but they'll sure FEEL like lead for a certain dude named Axel!" He yelled hoarsely, perfecting his aim. With a gentle squeeze of the trigger, a slug unique to the firearm (and one that wasn't lead) burst out from the barrel and hit Axel in his right eye. It ricocheted off as foam ammunition would and bounced into his lap. He blinked his slowly reddening eye.

"Ow."

"Oh really Axel, you're such a baby." Feminine vocals graced his ears in a moment of pain. Perhaps he was dead – really dead, this time – wasn't that when the angels sung to you? But when Axel lifted his eyes, there Larxene came, gliding in and heading towards the fridge.

"Oh, right. Angels don't get fat." He muttered aloud, then rubbed his face with the crook of his elbow and ducked his head as another bullet was fired in his direction.

"Excuse me?" She blurted, and then yelled over another gunshot that only imploded within the chamber of the oversized machine as she held up her palms in retreat. "Xigbar, please! Hold fire!"

Another grumble. "Sorry, pumpkin."

She shot him a blue-eyed glare, as brilliant as the sky outside, perhaps (he didn't know – he hadn't been outside in a while), and then returned them to Axel.

"It was brave to run away like that, if I do say so myself." Ah – so apparently she kept grudges? Well, of course she did. She was _female_, whether they in the Organization could accept that or not. For most it was difficult to: Larxene spent more time killing people than, say, writing in diaries and watching soap operas. Instead of painting her nails with polish, she splattered them with blood. Okay, a little over-exaggerated, but there was still a grain of truth in that legend. She was _savage_ – her title even said so.

Such a quip would surely give him kunai to stick politely out of his nose, but he risked it anyway. "No, I'm saying so, too."

"Hmph."

She had taken out the carton of milk from the refrigerator. The blonde cradled it against her chest, taking dainty strides towards his chair. She seemed to disappear behind it. Axel didn't mind. He only minded the fact that she hadn't taken a glass with her.

"You know, Axel, I had the _grandest_ time trying to convince Luxord that I was too tired to continue playing with him."

Though she couldn't see, Axel smirked a little. The thought of Luxord first being put up and then being let down amused him.

"You're the one who wanted to play with him in the first place."

"So that _you_ –" She breathed in sharply, suddenly, as if there was a stab of pain to her words. Not inflicting, but _self_-inflicting. "No. Why should I even waste my breath on you."

"'Cause you love me so much."

It was almost as if he could actually _feel_ her frown behind him. If he were to reach back and out, he could trace the slanted line of her pale lips and know that she was displeased with him.

Pointedly, Xigbar said in a parody of a chiding manner: "Wrong answer."

A cataract of dairy milk was slowly poured onto his fiery red hair, seeming to douse the flames. Larxene emptied the rest of the bottle onto the pyro, smiling all the while. And Axel just sat there, taking the torture as if he couldn't believe it. _I got him,_ she was probably thinking. _I finally **got** him._

That was, until a drenched ball of fluff exited the carton's top and tumbled into Axel's flattening hair. Then Larxene screeched.

_A mouse. I'll be damned; she's afraid of _mice!

Of course, it wasn't a mouse but a hamster. Roxas's, to be exact. Axel didn't have to look at the squeaking, scurrying rodent in his hair to know it was Chigger. Not long after the tan-and-white creature showed itself in a very unlikely fashion, Larxene summoned up a portal and left.

_Now_ who's the coward?

The incessant stifled shrieking of Chigger was joined by Xigbar's snickering. Axel finally worked up enough sense to narrow his flaring emerald eyes at him.

"I think you need to try a different approach, man."

Milk dripped from Number VIII's hair. He remained silent and almost contemplative, though his face gave away no expression. It looked nearly like wax, dribbling under a candle's flame. Literally. His tongue flickered out as a snake's would and licked a smear of cream off the side of his mouth. He grimaced. Sour.

"I'm going to kill this mouse." Was all he could say, and Lexaeus magically returned from whatever daydream he had been lost in during the disastrous confrontation and spoke up, though in monotone.

"I'm bored." He lifted his arm from the elbow and smashed it back down with colossal force onto the table, forming a visible crease in the wood. Plates clattered and papers and pens flew.

Xaldin winced.

Axel raised his hand and reluctantly snatched the rounded hamster within his grasp, inwardly mourning his hair . . . and perhaps his ego. Though he put on a façade of stern calmness, he was obviously peeved. Sometimes the silence before the storm foretold the most danger – it definitely held enough potential for hostility.

Standing up, Axel conjured a portal similar to Larxene's . . . though it obviously led to somewhere else.

Axel had bigger fish to fry.

Well, actually, smaller.

He glanced down at the hamster in his palm and smiled faintly.

(_xxx_)

After he had gone, the three men looked at each other expectantly.

"So . . . who gets dishwashing duty?"

"Very _funny,_ Xaldin."

Lexaeus blinked. "I like bubbles."

They both looked at him, and then quickly got up.

"Well, that decides things."

"Okay then, we'll leave you to it."

Xaldin slapped Lexaeus on the shoulder good-naturedly. "Bye."

"Have a blast!" Xigbar called over his shoulder, almost cackling.

When the two men were gone, Lexaeus's face fell into a frown.

"But not _dirty_ bubbles."

This was going to be a long night.

**A **u t h 0 r ' s **e**ND **N **0 t e  
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¤ You win if you understood that reference.  
OMG I'M AN ANIMAL ABUSER LOL. Poor Chigger. ( No, I love animals. I'm just good at misusing them. Purely in fanfics. )  
Thanks for your help on the words, guys. :D Feel free to suggest more any time. Gosh, don't you hate the English language? -whips the dictionary.-

I can't seem to decide if this should have more crack or be more serious. Hum. I blame my ever-changing moods. Oh, and I ( think ) I apologize that this was so short compared to the previous chapter. I don't know – if I recall correctly, I had a rare burst of inspiration while writing that one. Unfortunately, it seemed to have escaped me.


	5. Saix

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**Spell Check  
**005 . Living Nightmares

(_xxxxx_)

_I'm going to kill this mouse,_ he thought again as it outstretched its stubby neck and sunk its teeth into the vulnerable tip of his forefinger. _Bugger._

The small creature (which actually wasn't a mouse but a hamster) wriggled discontentedly and squeaked as it was switched to a more optimal position for the Nobody: dangling by the nape of its neck pinched in between his two fingers, in which he held away from his body distastefully, like carrying a soiled diaper by its extreme, hopefully pure edge whence questing the nearest trash bin. In time, Chigger realized fighting back was futile – there could be no possible escape from a bloodthirsty, giant killing-machine – and ceased his struggling. He hung limply, feet over the floor as a victim of a lynching would, head tilted to the ground. No pity stirred in Axel's heart, because – ha! He didn't have one.

Nevertheless, he didn't have any firm plans on assuredly murdering the rodent. He'd like to stake him, yes – with toothpicks, preferably – and then set him alight, but all that was mindless daydreaming. Axel knew how much Chigger meant to Roxas, and terminating his existence personally would first mean: chronic depression by the blonde haired kid, then: malicious rage directed to Yours Truly. Axel didn't doubt it; Roxas had taken his two pesky keyblades on him on more than one occasion (mostly when he lost at SSBM and was thoroughly convinced that _he had nearly won_) and once more wouldn't be quite incomprehensible. _I got to say it – the kid's got a temper. Sometimes even matching my own – or beyond that. _

The redhead glanced down at the tan-and-white hamster that had been peering up at him with curious oil-drop eyes. "You're lucky today, Hamtaro. I won't waste my precious time on skinning you – yet," And a whisper of a grin tugged at the side of his lips as Chigger seemed to perk up considerably. He poked him again with his other finger and came back with a bite-mark indentation on it once more. "Now, dammit, don't provoke me. I'm doing you a _favour_, bringing you back to your owner unharmed and all that. I have the right to revoke my promise," Axel growled, the sound mingling in with the clip-clipping of his boots on the metal floor.

On his way to Roxas's room, the one he was looking for came prematurely. Rounding the corner, he stopped; upon seeing Chigger, Axel could have sworn some kind of magic lightened up the boy's face at that instant.

"Chigger!"

Here is where the boy runs, stumbles, and falls to his knees.

"I've looked everywhere for you!"

All right, so; I lied. It wasn't a dramatic cry, and Roxas did not trip over his own feet on the way, but he _did _run to Axel (Chigger) and he did say such words. But no, he didn't weep while he did so.

Unlike a certain similar figure that we all certainly know too well in a certain game.

At the sight of seeing his master (AKA, the one who gives him food other than dried up rat turd pellets – which just so happened to be Zexion's veggies), the hamster became noticeably excited. It squirmed within Axel's large gloved hands and nearly crawled out and plummeted to the hard tiled floor.

"Don't _drop_ him!" Roxas warned, his voice on the edge of a screech in panic.

Axel fumbled, juggling the hamster as if it were a juggler's ball rather than a living animal, and luckily brought it to his chest clumsily in a save.

Roxas let a sigh of relief whistle past his lips, and outstretched his cupped palms to receive the hamster. Axel, without regret, let the hamster plop into them. Hamster rolled, hamster squeaked, hamster scuttled around excitedly and peed on Roxas' hand.

"Hey there, Chigger," The blond warned in his sternest sugary-sweet voice, "I thought I potty-trained you, yeah? You go in that little spot next to the wheel. But I guess I can give you a break since you've been out of it for a while." Promptly, Roxas reached over to Axel and wiped his hand on the man's cloaked chest.

Oh. Hell. No.

"Yeeeeuch," Axel groaned, his lip curling as he swiped the skid mark of piss off of him. He was collecting too much unwanted moisture for one day.

Meanwhile, Roxas was all eyes for his newfound pet. "Don't ever even _think_ about leaving your cage again, you hear me? It's a dangerous place out there, with Saїx and Larxene and Xemnas and Xaldin and Marluxia and Axel and . . ."

"We get the picture, kid. The entire Organization XIII. Right. We're all scary guys, y'know?"

Number XIII raised his big blue globes of eyes to the red-haired member, the oceans on a rounded map. "You found him," He acknowledged, stroking the hamster and cooing to it under his breath. Axel made another disgusted face. Chigger couldn't take it, and scurried up the length of Roxas' arm and perched on his shoulder like a parrot. "I thought you didn't like Chigger."

"We made up."

"You said he could burn in Hell." Cue pouty lower lip.

Axel had forgotten about that one, but he learned after it to never leave his bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos out when you had a hamster bunking in your room.

Imagine a cute little chubby hamster, tan and gold-saddled, your regular Hamtaro, with a giant red-peppered appendage suddenly sprouting out of its cute little mouth.

"That better not be a Cheeto, bug."

_Chip chip chip. _Axel wasn't sure if the sound was coming from Chigger or the sound made as he ate the Cheeto.

"Stop it."

_Munch munch munch._

"Stop it _now_."

_Crunch crunch crunch –_

The appendage was diminishing in size rapidly. Chigger's mouth was suddenly a garbage disposal, sucking anything in with alarming amounts of speed.

"_BURN IN HELL, HAMSTER_!"

"Axel, _noooooooo_!"

The boy, appearing out of nowhere, flipped over the fire-wielder's outstretched arms and dove towards his rodent pet . . .

. . . And succeeding on crushing the rest of Axel's Flamin' Hot Cheetos.

"Doofus! You just made things _WORSE_!" The pyro seethed, cradling his near-broken arms and crumpled bag of corn and chili powder.

"Will you ever –"

"I'll _NEVER_ forgive you!"

Axel was very good at finishing other people's sentences.

He was mad at Roxas for a week, before Larxene finally got so annoyed by their double cold shoulder method that she forced the two back together with a bag of Cheetos between them. During that time, they were shocked a lot – literally.

"Friends forgive each other, Roxas," Axel muttered from the corner of his mouth, barely moving his lips.

Roxas shrugged away the memories and continued to pat the hamster. He then noticed Axel's damp, slightly dripping hair.

"Axel, why is your hair . . . creamy?"

The Nobody raised his eyes and hands to his scalp, twisting a lock of red hair around a finger and wringing the sour milk out of it. "It's my new styling mousse. You like?"

"Get real."

"Been trying to for two years."

On that awkward note (for Roxas probably felt a little sorry for Axel, because he had only been trying to get a heart for two months as opposed to two years), there was a grave moment of silence. The little wheels of the younger Nobody's brain were churning and spinning, Axel knew, and it made him slightly uneasy.

"I think . . ." Roxas began, slowly musing, "I think Larxene paid you back for abandoning her during strip poker." He lifted a hand to stifle the soft giggles that threatened to arise in his throat.

Axel was mock-incredulous, his voice having an edge of threatening sarcasm. "Abandoning her? I did no such thing. Where did you hear that from?"

The boy paused to take a deep breath, preparing for a speech. "I heard from Demyx who heard from Marluxia who heard from Zexion who heard from Luxord."

Axel blinked. "Kid, you're amazing."

"Well," He said, giving Chigger another stroke, "I am the keyblade master."

The older and more informed participant of this conversation would beg to differ, but let it slide so Roxas could bask in his empty arrogance.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Now Axel actually was incredulous. "_Apologize?_ What do _I_ have to apologize for? She's the one who dumped the milk and hamster on me!"

A frown tugged delicately at Roxas' expertly pouting lips. "So THAT'S why Chiggy's wet!"

"I almost _ingested_ that rodent," Axel grumbled, wondering what it'd like to eat a _bug._

"Hey, I bet he doesn't taste that bad." The blond waved the argument off. "Anyway, you're the one who kissed her."

"It was one lousy kiss," He moped, "and then she kicked me in the balls. She shouldn't be such a . . ." He struggled for a word that wouldn't offend Roxas' youth. "An arrhenphobic."

Roxas let out a quiet, skeptical snort. "I think Larxene is the least arrhenphobic girl I've met."

Axel paused to consider, and then laughed. "You're right."

Together, they began to walk back towards the younger Organization member's room. Axel took long strides while Roxas' were short and quick. His boots tapped on the metallic floor like a noisily persistent leaking faucet while Axel's were muffled, skilled in the art of sneaking about and being, well, a general bad guy. Someday he'd try to teach him, if Roxas wanted to be taught. For now, the older member would allow his innocence to go uncorrupted and let him enjoy his stay at Castle Oblivion for as long as he could.

They came to a slow stop at the door. Axel began to reach out to turn the knob when Roxas flashed him a gaze. Okay, it wasn't really a gaze. It was more like a freakin' huge puppy-dog stare that virtually abducted Roxas' face. His eyes were saucers swimming with deep blue liquid, as though someone had poured both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans into each eye socket.

_Roxas' face, come back to us._

_Last call for Roxas' face._

_Oh, wait. I see . . . _

_A nose! Yes, a nose!_

_It's a very tiny nose._

_Please remove your, huge anime eyes that are oh-so coincidentally blue from the rest of your face._

Stereotype. Stereotype. Stereotype.

Why'd they always have to be blond-haired, blue eyes people, anyway?

Roxas (not that he was attracted to him, or anything, but those _eyes_ . . . they could darn well make you melt) . . . Larxene.

"So you aren't going to fry Chigger?"

_Twitch_.

Axel squinted an eye at the hamster, who was still perched on Roxas' shoulder.

_Twitch twitch_.

What – what was that? The bastard was _mocking_ him. He was twitching his whiskers at him, by golly! Axel twitched back, more competitively this time.

"Axel, is something wrong with your eye?"

"What?" He snapped up again, unconsciously leaning over to be near eye-level to the hamster. Roxas was looking at him with an expression that read _'Okay, is something wrong with _you_, then?'_

"I asked, are you going to fry Chigger or not?"

"What, do you want me to?"

Roxas pressed his lips together, looking hurt. His eyes seemed to swim, and expand. Oh, Lord.

The anticipation grew. His eyes flicked to Chigger, who seemed to be standing up a little taller, his slender forepaws clutched to his furry chest. He had paused in the middle of grooming himself, as though he realized these were important issues and needed to listen. His pale nose did twinge back and forth, as if trying to pick up Axel's thoughts on the matter before he said them – and ultimately decide his fate.

Figuring looking at a rat wasn't very persuading (they weren't exactly a soft spot to his nonexistent heart), he returned his gaze back to Roxas. And was struck again with those huge, pleading eyes.

_Aww . . . aw crap._

_I'm getting to be soft, after all. Or maybe just a total pushover. _

Axel let out a breath of defeat. "No, I'm not going to fry your hamster."

And at that instant, Roxas' puppy-dog eyes were gone, sucked up by the great vacuums of the Mothership. He beamed with a smile, seeming to radiate with a scintillating golden light (as in, the fluorescent light was being absorbed by his goldenrod hair). In a moment Axel found himself tipping backwords slightly as Roxas tackled him, flinging his arms around his middle and burying his spiky head into his abdomen. _Yeow, kid, that's a lethal weapon._

The hamster, in the meanwhile, seemed to be doing a little victory dance after nearly flying off of his owner's shoulder on impact. He skittered and then righted himself, grooving to a soundless cheering.

Axel stood there, stiff and awkward-like, before ruffling the boy's hair and gently detaching himself. As he combed his hand through the kid's hair, he realized it wasn't quite the feeling of running your hand across a bunch of bristles. In fact, it was curiously soft.

"You're like hugging a broomstick, Axel."

Axel flipped him a winning smirk. "You know you like it."

_Roxas never much liked mopping. The fact that he'd conjure up visions of mopping the floor with Zexion's droopy hair didn't really make him feel all too great about himself. So instead he traded the chore with Axel, who had sweeping. To make the chore more fun, he began to whistle a tune ( that was actually called "The 13__th__ Struggle" and is on the Kingdom Hearts II soundtrack, but he doesn't know that because he hasn't gotten to that point of his nonexistent life yet ). Moving on, he also began to dance to this rather upbeat tune, with the only object around . . . the broomstick. Please do not try this at home – it may prove to be fatally damaging to your brain and/or sanity. _

"I am _not_ dancing with you, Axel," Emitted the blond automatically and randomly, blinking as he did so.

The redhead, equally surprised at Roxas' out-of-place outburst, quirked a sharp brow. "Eh?"

"Never mind." He reached for the door handle (knob, handle, they were all the same) and cracked it open partially. Roxas hesitated for a moment, wondering why Axel was still standing there behind him. _He's obnoxiously tall. Like . . . a giraffe. _He made a mental note to someday travel to The Pride Lands and see what sort of animal Axel would turn out to be.

"Going to bed?" Axel finally asked, continuing to stall.

"No, I think I'm going to go play DDR a bit." The boy glanced back at him almost suspiciously. "What about you?"

"I still have some unfinished business to take care of before I retire. Dropping off your rat was just a detour."

Roxas grumbled. "If I hear anything loud and disruptive, I guess I'll know it's you, then."

Axel leaned his hip against the wall casually. "Ha; you've gotta have more faith in me than that, Roxas."

"Is it even possible to have faith when you don't have a heart?" Roxas paused, staring down at the doorknob he grasped in his hand. "Whatever. 'Night."

The door clicked shut and was followed by the clicking of Axel's boots on the floor as he walked down the long stretch of corridor. The younger Organization XIII member's lingering thought for the night left him to ponder. Didn't he have faith in getting another heart? Didn't they all? That was the purpose of the Organization, wasn't it? To try and get their hearts back. What if it was all just a lost cause? Maybe Xemnas, the slippery bastard, was lying to them all along. They were just a bunch of no-gooders to wreck havoc on the innocent people and heroes.

These things he tended to lose precious sleep over.

He continued to walk down the hallways, a musing expression masking his façade as he barely passed a glance at doorways he did not care to enter. His destination was set: and he knew exactly where it was . . .

Any focus he had was momentarily shattered as a colossal beast came up from behind him and devoured him with its gelatinous jowls!

False alarm. It was just Demyx.

"Axel! Hey, Axel!"

He didn't look behind him, in fear of the mullet/mohawk/thing-wearing of a teen might actually acknowledge that he was getting attention. Once Demyx got attention drawn to himself, there was no chance of making him go away.

So instead he kept on walking, determined to make it to his destination without a tarrying distraction. He ignored Number IX until the boy was practically stumbling at his shoulder.

"Axel! Jeez dude, quit walking so fast it's not like you have a heart to work out with!" Panted Demyx, a grin on his face. "What's that called again? Cardio . . . card . . . captors? Wait," He furrowed his brow in deep concentration, crossing his arms to his chest and then lifting a finger when he seemed to figure out the puzzling mystery. "Ah yeah! Cardiovascular! See Axel, I'm good with words. So, can I be in your spelling bee?"

Axel kept walking.

"Axel!"

Walking was very healthy for your nonexistent heart.

"Axel, c'mon _maaaan_," Demyx whined with a pained expression on his face, "I heard from Larxene who heard from Xaldin who heard from Xigbar who heard from Lexaeus–" Insert breath here "–who heard from Luxord who heard from Zexion who heard from Roxas–" Another "–that you were doing a spelling bee with the Organization!"

"I'm surprised . . . Larxene told you about this, Demyx," Axel said in his most Zexion-like voice when provoked. AKA: deep, musing, dark, and threatening. Of course she would have told him. Even though Demyx's line of sources was chronologically incorrect, she would have spilled the beans simply to bother Axel. Everyone had to do Larxene's dirty work . . . or she'd do it herself, as he learned from not too long ago. He tugged at his still-damp hair once more, dissatisfied by the way it squished around his finger.

_Larxene_, He mentally growled, _you've played your card, now it's my turn again._

"Oh crap. I don't think I was supposed to mention her," Demyx realized suddenly, stopping in his tracks for a second.

Axel rolled his eyes nonchalantly without Demyx managing to see. "For you see, Demyx," He continued his calm explanation as if it had never been broken, "this spelling bee . . . it's no game. It's actually highly confidential."

"Then . . . how come everyone in the Organization's talking about it?"

"Everyone?" He raised his eyebrows in skeptical inquiry.

Demyx's lips twitched. "I guess not everyone. Xemnas still doesn't know."

"Well, thank God for that for me, why don't you, Demyx?" Commented Axel sarcastically, swinging back into motion.

"But –" Demyx swiped for a corner of Axel's hood, but Axel shrugged him away in contempt, avoiding him like the plague. Demyx was reduced down to pleading, looking crestfallen at the older Organization member's reaction – and rejection. "I reeeeeally want to be a part of it! I've been thinking of all these words, you know, and reading some of Zexy's books – shoot, I should give them back soon before he finds out – and I – I'll beat you, Axel!" He stood there, arms taut and hands bunched into fists before falling loosely at his sides.

"I'd like to see you try," Axel jovially retorted, then backtracked. "Wait no, don't. It'd be a disaster."

"How would it be . . ."

"Because you'd begin to _cry_, Demyx," He snarled softly, turning on him and motioning at his stunned face. "You're so full of water that you'd just start to _leak_ when you lose."

Demyx's face scrunched up, and it looked as if he was just about to spring a few leaks just by that comment. "Axel –"

"And then you'd whine to the Superior – 'Oh, boohoo, Axel kicked my ass in a stupid spelling game, can you turn him into a Dusk for me?' But he won't. Because at least I have a place in the Organization. They don't need you, Demyx!" He whispered harshly, "You're just their lackey."

He grabbed the knob to a door right behind him and wrenched it open. Before he shut it on Demyx's sulking face, he made up a quick goodbye.

"Go play with your water clones, Demyx. They're the only ones that can actually stand being around you."

He closed the door quietly and slipped his finger over the lock. He didn't want the inhabitant of the room to hear his unwelcome entrance (all though with all the commotion outside and said inhabitant's keen ears had probably already been picked up). Axel faced the darkness of the room, shadows draped over the furniture like sheets, a contorted look on his face and his back to the door. Of course Demyx could always warp into the room. But did he want to get another verbal beating from two Nobodies, now? Hopefully he had hurt him too much, and he'd stay away.

Demyx was always annoying. He got his equal share of lashings from the rest of the Organization, and was picked on more frequently than anyone else Axel had seen before. Normally he could ignore him, so what set him off on the younger Organization member today?

_Larxene._ He inwardly seethed, as though he could summon up a ball of flame and hurl it at her very name, causing it to explode and therefore destroying the Nobody as well. His hand curled and clenched into a fist, and flicker of fire appeared around his wrist like a bracelet of red hot serpents, and then flickered back into nonexistence. No. He could not deal with Larxene at the moment because she was not important enough to fit on his agenda.

_Try to convince yourself that, Axel._

_Just like you tried to convince Demyx that he wasn't good for anything . . . and perhaps succeeded._

Axel shut his apple green eyes against the thoughts. He had taken his rage out on Demyx because of Larxene; he wasn't going to feel guilt now. Not now.

"What," A voice greeted him from the darkness, "are you doing in my room, Axel?" It didn't sound like a very happy voice.

Axel's eyelids slid up, glaring at the figure hidden within the shadows. He didn't feel very threatened by the disembodied voice, at the moment.

"I'd like to say I've come for you . . . but no, I wouldn't," He smirked, retaliating wittingly.

"Suppose I kill you now . . ." A steel weapon, large, flashed in front of Axel's throat. "Nothing will stop me from _dying_ _of laughter_."

"God, please. Cut it with the dry threats and be normal for once, won't you?"

Saïx frowned. "Well then I wouldn't have any fun."

"You _could_ have fun if you didn't hide in your room all day, or hang around the Superior all the time. That can't be very fun."

"What ever do you suggest as my cure, Axel?" The elf – whoops, excuse me, Nobody – drawled out sarcastically.

"First, lower your weapon."

It stayed at his chest, barely tickling his chin.

"I said, lower the fucking oversized piece of metal."

"Temper, temper," Saïx purred, yet complied. "I can see why your element is fire, now. I don't believe I mistook the fight between you and water outside, did I?"

Axel didn't flinch. His eyes moved to the bedroom's sole window, where a moon like a silver dollar hung there and shone its nocturnal brilliance, spilling fragments of quicksilver onto the carpet. Naturally the Luna Diviner had to have the bedroom with the view of the moon.

"Don't want to talk about it? I see. Perhaps you'd rather talk about your earlier . . . noise-making escapades instead."

The redhead twitched a brow. "Big words don't intimidate me, Saïx. As you'll soon learn."

"Careful. I could tell the Superior of yours and the keyblade child's foolish games and of how they disrupt the entire Organization."

"Tell Xemnas. I don't care. Why would he condemn us for playing a few video games?"

"Because it isn't in his orders!" Saïx barked. Axel chuckled.

"Isn't in his orders?" He repeated, slowly and cockily.

"Axel," The silver-haired man began, lowering his fierce yellow eyes, "soon the castle will have a king chosen for it. I ask you not to ruin my chance and do as he asks, and as I ask –"

"Sorry, Saïx. I don't take orders from anyone but myself." Axel cut in, his words made final.

The older man glared at him steadily, his eyes piercing and direct. "Then you will die." He whispered solemnly.

"Sorry, mate. Think I'm already dead," He replied with amusement, sinking onto the bed and crossing one leg over the other, the backs of his elbows resting on the headboard. "We're all dead here, _Georgie_."

Saïx flinched at the crack, probably not appreciating the allusion to a book/move he'd probably never read/watch. Of course, half-draped in shadows and his bright red hair and silly tattoos standing out, illuminated by the moonlight, Axel could have eerily fit the part of Pennywise the clown from _It_.

"On a lighter note," Axel continued languidly, his familiar charm still flattering his voice, "I have an idea."

"Ironically, I don't want to hear it."

Axel grinned. "How about we calm both our feisty tempers with a little game?"

"Do you mean that ridiculous spelling bee of yours, perchance?"

"Hark! Saïx does not live under a rock after all. Or he's just a dirty eavesdropper."

"Mind your superiors," The Nobody hissed.

"I say a word and you spell it. Savvy?"

"You've been watching too much _Pirates of the Caribbean_ as well. Stop it."

"No, that's strictly the author speaking. And don't tell me to stop anything, because I won't.

"Spell 'sphygmomanometer' for me, Number VII."

He scrunched his elongated face up in annoyance, but answered it.

"Now it's my turn. Spell 'achondroplasia.'"

"Easy, Saïx. What do you take me for, an uneducated dwarf?" He spelled it.

They seemed to waste away the minutes, shooting words at each other as if they were loaded guns.

Until they got to a certain word – 'antidisestablishmentarianism.'

"That's more than one word, isn't it?" Saïx asked cynically.

"No."

"No, it is."

General eye roll. "No, it isn't."

Saïx's golden eyes narrowed even more into slits – more than he could even imagine as possible. "Do not argue with me Axel, because I am right. 'Antidisestablishmentarianism' _is_ more than one word."

"What do you know about church, anyway?"

Saïx grabbed his claymore. Oh, shit.

"Do not joke with me, Axel. _I know that that word is illegitimate._"

"Okay, okay!" Axel put his hands up in defense. He didn't like the spooky way how Saïx's long, straight platinum hair was suddenly floating around his head. "Maybe it is! Just spell the word."

He didn't want to provoke the Luna Diviner any further, but it seemed as though he had.

"_THAT IS NOT A GOOD ENOUGH ANSWER FOR ME, SAÏX, YOUR SUPERIOR._"

Axel stumbled off the bed to run.

He sprang for the door, hand splaying to reach for the knob. There was a roar behind him as he struggled to pry the door open – which wouldn't do anything but jiggle in its hinges. He snapped his teeth together on his tongue by accident, but no blood flowed from the clip – just panic.

_Oh, shit_ – Axel repeated desperately in his mind again.

"_YOU SHALL DIE NOW._"

Fuck. This guy was a beast! And the damn door was stuck. Or locked. Or someone was on the outside, holding the door closed. Double damn.

"_Demyx, open the door now_!"

"Why should I?" Came the familiar whiny nasal voice on the other side of the door.

There was another roar of outrage behind him.

"_Just do it_!"

There was the clicking of released pressure – he felt the door relax against the line of his weight. _Thank God._

But then the door wouldn't budge again.

"_DEMYX_!" His voice was getting shrill with desperation and frustration.

"You deserve this, Axel!"

"_AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRGH_!"

Saïx going berserk: not a pretty sight or good for the ears.

"That's IT!" Axel yelled, and took a step back. He could feel Saïx's breath on his back before he put his arms together out before him and summoned up a huge fire ball that her hurled towards the door, causing it to burst open.

Demyx was standing outside the doorway when Axel emerged from the smoke and sparks. The fireworks display only made him stumble a little bit, but he looked stubborn and determined, most likely about ready to go off on a prepared speech about how he didn't like how he was being treated by Axel, that he should apologize (though he wouldn't really care – nope, he wouldn't), that there was a lacking of sugary foods in the pantry, and that he _was_ going to be included in the spelling bee, one way or the other.

Before he saw Saïx.

Or, not really Saïx anymore.

His eyes grew huge, pupils dilating in horror. Demyx's lips began to tremble as he saw the monster's enraged face hovering in the doorway, with a floating mane of that whipped around behind him by some invisible wind or force.

"A-Axel? Wh-what's that?" He gaped, stuttering while pointing.

Axel, in the meanwhile, looked like a nuclear bomb explosion survivor. He tripped forwards, glanced over his shoulder unsteadily, and then turned back to Demyx with a renewed expression of distress.

"_Run_!"

They didn't need much more of a 'go.' Saïx bellowed again behind them, coming at the two Nobodies while gliding on his claymore that churned up the hallway behind him. They both ran quickly yet clumsily down the corridor, yelling (and Demyx screaming). Across their path was Zexion, his nose buried in a book. They had no time to stop, and little time to warn him.

"MOVE IT!" Axel yelled, mimicking Larxene's demand earlier that morning minus the 'emo kid' part.

"Sorry bye!" Demyx yelped, leaping past the stunned teen whose shoulder was used as Demyx's momentary support. Or perhaps it was more like a clap on the shoulder one gave before they were doomed to perish. Whichever.

Zexion stumbled back to the wall, pressed against it as a blur of dust and . . . other matter blew on past after the two Nobodies like a steamroller.

"Oh, dear." He said once they were gone, examining the path of damage. "That was Saïx, wasn't it?" He mused to himself, and then chuckled darkly. "Lord knows they deserve it, those troublemakers." Number VI stepped over the mass of rubble daintily, going on his way with book in hand. He reached the opposite wall and created a portal to the basement, disappearing into the swirl of black and violet darkness.

"AHHHHH!"

"ARRRRRRRRRGH!"

"_AHHHHHH_!"

"_ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH_!"

Axel and Demyx sprung through the labyrinth of hallways, still yelling. Their yells were inevitably drowned by Saïx's angry lion-like roars that boomed within the corridors.

They turned a corner. Another corner.

"Is he gaining?" Demyx called to Axel, tossing his head to throw him a tentative glance.

"I'm not looking!" ( lol Reno quote. –author is shot for interruptive A/N.- )

They went past doors. A lot of doors. They didn't have much time to stall and choose which one they should go through, so they just picked a random one and threw their weight against it to open it.

The two ran through the room, hoping dearly that it was one that led to another one . . . or the outside. It did, fortunately; except there was one slight problem.

It was Xemnas' room.

The Superior, who had been resting on his zebra-striped couch, propped himself up on his elbow when the two miscreants burst into his room, still running. He managed to both glare at them and raise his eyebrows. When they were gone, he didn't have another moment of peace before a crazed demon-possessed-thing crashed through his wall, and then crashed through the other one, making his own exit and entrance.

Still running.

Still crashing through walls, in the Saïx Beast's case.

They reached a rather spacious corridor that led to another one, but, feeling that climbing the steps would make them too late, Axel grabbed Demyx's arm and shoved him behind a statue.

"Hey, wha?" Demyx cried out in alarm.

"Shh!"

They both huddled down behind it, waiting for Saïx to come in shortly thereafter. Or not. 'Or not' would be good.

"_Rrrrrrrrrrrrr_."

Okay, so much for wishful thinking.

Axel noticed Demyx trembling beside him. He grabbed his arm again and squeezed to steady him.

"Ouch, that hurts, Axel!"

"Shut up!"

There was another noise from behind their hiding spot. Did Saïx hear? Axel winced in thought.

Then there came a heavy sniffing sound, as if someone had a very bad cold. Or was crying at a sad movie. Or was sniffing out their prey. Most likely, it was option three. He was scenting them out!

_What kind of world does this guy come from, anyway? The Pride Lands?_

In a few moments, Saïx seemed to give up his hunt and the sniffing stopped. The sound of footsteps leaving the corridor echoed softly in their ears, causing the two Nobodies to nearly go berserk with relief. They wouldn't, because they had seen from experience just then that it wasn't a particularly lovely sight.

"He's gone," Axel alerted Demyx after peering out from behind the statue to make sure the coast was clear. He looked back and saw that Demyx had fainted.

Tonight had been a long night.

He could only imagine what the consequences would be tomorrow.

There was a disruption outside – he flinched, thinking it might be Saïx again. But it was a portal, and from it stepped a man with stringy blue hair over one side of his face.

"The Superior has alerted me that tomorrow there will be a meeting for all of the Organization to attend," Zexion said smugly. His indigo eye, the only one visible, glinted as he smirked faintly. "You're in trouble, Axel."

"Stow it, I'm too tired to care right now."

A slight frown tugged at his lips. "Let me tell you now, then, that the damage will be repaid – and repaired."

"It's Saïx's fucking fault, isn't it? He went berserk on us. Not my problem."

"I'm just the messenger," Zexion stated innocently, stepping back into the still activated portal.

"And nothing more than a pest," Axel spat. "Now good night."

And he conked out right next to Demyx, and he dreamed of meetings with explosions and lions with silver manes attacking him.

And of Larxene's reaction to all this. That included the explosions.

**A **u t h 0 r ' s **e**ND **N **0 t e  
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Homg Axel turned sort of ebil in this. oo Like manipulative bastard Axel in CoM. Oh well; at least he has his reasons.

Damn. It's been a long time since I've updated, yeah? I can't totally blame school, since I've still been writing; I dunno. I need to be reminded that I have chaptered fics I need to attend to and stop making new stuff. XD  
And I apologize; this was sort of a… weird chapter, too. And crazy.

Cheetos. o.o;

Until next time. (Which will hopefully be sometime in the near future.) Thanks for staying with me. Word suggestions are always love – as are reviews.


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